


A Murder of Crows

by LadyLazarus (withnothingtangible)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: (it's probably staged tho because like Murder Mystery), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender AU, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Murder Mystery, Suicide, Thedas is still thedas tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withnothingtangible/pseuds/LadyLazarus
Summary: Kallian Tabris just wants to mix drinks and change lives. This plan is rudely interrupted by the arrival of a (gorgeous) Antivan and the (unexplained) murder of her boss, Duncan. No amount of whisky can help fix this.A Modern Bartender AU retelling of Dragon Age: Origins, featuring more politics than should be necessary and too much research into cocktail names (for chapter titles) and types of brandy. Updates irregularly but I'll finish this if it damn kills me.





	1. Death in the Afternoon

“We are not spending your first Friday night off in months on your couch eating ice cream and drinking wine while watching Netflix like Shem women going through a bad breakup.” 

 

I needed both hands to pop the leftover lasagna in the microwave, and somehow Shianni’s voice managed to sound even more demanding through the phone’s speakers. 

 

“This isn't just any ice cream Shianni, it's  _ wine  _ ice cream I've been dying to try for months. And I already have my comfy sweatpants on.” 

 

“And how long has it been since you've been to a club? Andraste’s ass, how long has it been since you've last been on the other side of a bar?” 

 

“Exactly two months ago and the drinks were awful.” 

 

Shianni snorted. “The drinks were fine. You're just a fusspot.” 

 

“I don't see the point of going to a bar when I already spend most of my time at one.” 

 

“To meet new people, Kal. Maybe even find someone who'll treat you better than that Shem you last dated.” 

 

This made me pause. Is  _ this  _ what my family thought about Alistair? Our differences aside, he’d never intentionally try and hurt anyone like that. “Alistair treated me fine. It was his family that didn't like me.” 

 

“Come on, Kal, it'll be fun. I promise. If you're not having a good time after an hour you can go home and binge Hard in Hightown. Okay? Just give it a chance.” 

 

I took a bite of lasagna to give me time to mull it over. I didn’t really want to go out, but Shianni was a stubborn as a Mabari on a scent. “Fine.” 

 

“Good, Soris and I will come pick you up at eight. Wear something nice. See you then!”

 

“Cool. See you then.” 

 

I hung up and groaned. “Why do I let her talk me into things? And what the fuck is ‘something nice’?” 

 

I stared at my wardrobe. My collection of skinny jeans and black tops stared back. 

 

“Fuck.”

 

_ I’m just gonna stay in sweatpants until the last minute. May as well enjoy my dinner in comfort.  _ I walked back to the kitchen portion of my studio and took my lasagna out of the microwave and began to dig in. 

 

My phone dinged. 

 

_ Shianni, you just got off the phone with me -  _

 

_ Oh. _

 

**DO NOT TEXT WHILE DRUNK**

**Friday**

**(19:04) Hey Kallian**

**(19:05) I know it’s late notice but can you take over my shifts for the rest of this weekend?**

**(19:05) Elissa has a family crisis and I need to get to Highever stat and do the supportive boyfriend thing**

 

_ You can’t be serious, Alistair.  _ I moved to set my phone down, but the next message stopped me. 

 

**(19:05) I know you’re the last person I should ask but I’ve run out of options**

**(19:05) Please, I’ll make it up to you**

 

One one hand, I would have to do a favour for my ex. On the other, I could get out of going clubbing with Shianni, and weekend tips would help pad out what I was still calling my grad school fund. 

 

(19:05) Fine

 

I watched the ellipses stop and start at the bottom of my screen before my phone exploded.

 

**(19:06) !!!!!!!**

**(19:06) You will?!?!**

**(19:06) Maker’s Breath, you’re a lifesaver**

**(19:06) Wait...**

**(19:06) You really mean it? This isn’t some kind of sick joke or something**

(19:06) Yes, I’ll cover your shifts for you

(19:06) I’ll head over to the bar ASAP

 

**(19:06) You’re a lifesaver, Kallian**

(19:07) Hope it’s nothing too serious

**(19:07) Me too**

 

_ Well, now I get to call Shianni and tell her I have to bail and go to work. _

I set the phone on speaker, set it on the bathroom counter,  and began to dress for work. Black skinny jeans. Black swishy tank. Strappy bra. Eyeliner. Mascara. I was gone before the ringing stopped and Shianni picked up. 

 

“Kallian Adaia Tabris, you’d better not be bailing on me.”

 

“There was an emergency so I’ve been called in last minute,” I shook out my hair from its messy bun.

 

“Don’t give me that shit, you’re just gonna stay at home and wine ice cream binge in your sweatpants.”

 

“Void, Shianni, if you don’t believe me drop by The Griffon for once. First round will be on the house.”

 

There was a pause. I imagined the shudder that went through Shianni whenever I mentioned her going to the Griffon. 

 

“You know that’s never going to happen. Too many shem. But I’m gonna need a selfie as proof.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Shianni, I gotta go.”

 

***

 

The ride to work was uneventful. Much of Denerim peak hour had passed by this time, so there was little weaving through traffic. I parked my motorcycle in the usual spot and was about to walk in the back door when I was accosted by a grateful Alistair. 

 

“Kallian, I don't know how to thank you."

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the bar?”

 

“Duncan’s covering for me. Maker, Kallian, you don't know how much this means to me.”

 

_ Shit. He's going to hug me. He's going to fucking hug me.  _ I sidestepped to avoid his outstretched arms. 

 

“I’d better go rescue him from bartending duty.”

 

“Right, of course.” 

 

Before he could say anything further, I entered the bar. 

 

The tourist web guides to Denerim would tell you that The Griffon is a casual establishment decorated with historic Grey Warden paraphernalia with an accompanying beer garden open in good weather with reasonably priced food and drink  (both alcoholic and not) for the area. A pleasant place to spend the evening if you are looking for a drink and a bite to eat.

 

The one thing these neglect to mention is its owner: Duncan.  An ex cop with a retired police dog named Moira. I'd been working for him for four years now. He'd basically taken me in when he'd hired me as a wide-eyed undergrad student and was more like a mentor to both Alistair and I. He'd even helped me find my studio apartment. He, and everyone else who worked at the Griffon, were family, and it showed. 

 

“Hey Duncs!”

 

Duncan was at the bar serving one of our regulars, Oghren. Red-bearded ex-military dwarf and resident alcoholic. Flirty drunk but never handsy. Tips well when he can. 

 

“Well look who the bronto dragged in. I thought it was your day off, Kal.” Oghren sounded surprisingly lucid for a man with the number of empty glasses in front of him.”

 

“Thought so too, but apparently the place’ll fall apart without me.” 

 

“I'll say. Duncan here may be a fine business owner, but he can't mix a whisky soda right.”

 

“That's cause I never add soda in yours.” 

 

“So that's the secret,” Duncan said, eyes twinkling. 

 

“You'd better not be stealing one of my regulars, boss.” I said as I stepped behind the bar and found my apron. 

 

“I wouldn't dream of it. I'll let you handle the mixing. I have some work to do tonight.” 

 

“Aye aye cap’n.” I saluted Duncan as he headed back to his office. 

 

I turned to Oghren. “I'll pour you a proper whisky soda.” 

 

“Have I told you you're my favourite bartender?”

 

“Only once or twice. But it doesn't hurt to hear it again,” I said while adding a little extra to his glass.

 

“If I knew flattery would be so effective, I'd be a lot more liberal with my compliments, Oghren.”Another of the regulars, Leliana walked up to the bar. Red headed. Hardly ever drunk. Fond of fancy frilly drinks. Best shoes. 

 

Oghren let out a raucous guffaw. When he could breathe somewhat more regularly, “Nah, Kal’s not my type. I prefer my women with more… substance.” 

 

_ Now there's a vomit inducing thought. _

 

I slid Oghren his whisky and he handed me a 10 silver note. “Keep the change,” and he headed back to his table in front of the screen showing The Game. 

 

“Now what can I get for you, Leliana.”

 

“It's more like what  _ I  _ can do for  _ you _ , but while I'm here I'd like a white sangria, please. And an Antivan brandy.”

 

“I'm listening.” I started getting the ingredients together for the sangria. The sangria wasn't a surprise, but the brandy? Leliana was up to something.

 

Leliana crossed her arms and leant on the bar. “There's an elven man sitting by himself in the corner on the left. Do you know him?” 

 

I looked over to the corner she had described. Sure enough a man with shoulder length blonde hair and tan skin was sitting there, with a mostly empty glass. He was dressed in plain, simple clothing: blue jeans, white shirt, leather jacket. Nothing too conspicuous or eye catching. But the simple clothing couldn't hide the fact he was absolutely gorgeous. “I think I would remember if I had.” 

 

“That's strange, because when you walked in he nearly jumped out of his chair. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. He also seemed a little uncomfortable when Duncan was serving him, but it's not unusual for elves to be wary of police officers, even retired ones- you really haven't met him?” 

 

“Antivan brandy is an unusual choice for you, Leliana. You've never ordered straight liquor before. But here is your sangria, and if you'll wait a moment I'll pour you your brandy.” 

 

_ “ _ Sometimes you need to try something new, and sometimes a drink is not merely just a drink. A drink can seal a deal, loosen tongues. A drink holds a myriad of possibilities, in the right hands. 

 

“And sometimes your friend forgets she is no longer playing the Grand Game in Orlais,” I said while pouring the brandy and pointedly not sliding it over to her side of the bar. 

 

“Tell him it’s on the house.” She took a sip of the sangria. “This is perfect as always, Kallian.” She walked back to her table where her friends were waiting. I recognised Josephine: Antivan businesswoman, cuddly drunk, preference for sweet drinks, and a woman with short black hair that I hadn’t met before, but have seen with Leliana quite a few times. 

 

My pocket buzzed.

 

**Shianni**

**(19:52) I don’t see a selfie, Kal**

(19:52) I’m at work Shianni. Gotta give a customer their drink. 

**(19:52) If you have time to txt you have time to take a selfie**

(19:53) {Image sent}

(19:53) Happy now?

**(19:53) yes**

 

I rolled my eyes and put my phone away. I took another look at the man in the corner. His glass was nearly empty now, and he was swirling the last bit of the contents absentmindedly. Leliana’s words echoed in my mind:  _ “He looked like he'd seen a ghost.”  _ Who was he? And why did he react like that when I walked in? I picked up the glass of brandy and walked over to his table. 

 

He noticed me walking over almost immediately. A concerned expression flashed across his face for a split second, but was quickly replaced by a languid grin. The expression was accentuated by the two tattooed curving lines on the left side of his face. 

 

“What brings the loveliest bartender over to my humble table?” He drawled.  _ So he's Antivan then.  _

 

“I’m the only bartender on tonight, which also makes the opposite true.” I placed his drink on the table. “Thought you could use a top up. On the house.”

 

“The fact that you’re the only bartender does not change the fact that you are beautiful.”

 

_ And a flirty drunk. _ “The fact that I’m a bartender and the phenomenon of beer goggles makes me wonder if you’ve had too much to drink.”

 

He laughed, low and throaty, before taking a sip of his drink. _ “ _ My, my, the things you say, must drive your boyfriend wild.” He noticed my raised eyebrow. “Or girlfriend. Or datemate. I noticed you taking a selfie, and thought, a beautiful woman such as her must be sending such a picture to a lover.”

 

“No such luck. My cousin wanted proof I was actually at work.”

 

“Does your cousin normally keep such vigilant watch over your whereabouts?”

 

“I bailed on going out with her tonight.”

 

“Such a pity you had to come to work then. Although I am certainly not complaining. It has been an exceptional pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

 

“And I'm sure you say that to all the girls. Or boys. Or nonbinary folk,” I said pointedly. 

 

“Do you ordinarily bring your customers free drinks to their tables?”

 

“No, although I might be beginning to regret it.” 

 

“As a customer, I am very much enjoying your personal service.” 

 

“As a bartender, I should return to the bar so other people can enjoy a drink.” 

 

“But if you do that how am I supposed to enjoy more of your titillating company?” 

 

“No-one’s stopping you from sitting at the bar.” I turned and walked away. 

 

***

I had expected him to follow me to the bar, but instead he continued to sit at his table and sip his brandy. I continued to mix and serve drinks to the various patrons. Occasionally, I caught him staring at me when he thought i wasn't watching. He looked at me like my existence bruised him. It would only last a second until it was replaced by the same flirtatious smirk. 

 

Duncan came out of his office at around 8:45 and started heaping coffee grounds into the espresso machine. Which was unusual, because he usually clocked off around ten and let Alistair or I lock up when the bar closed. 

 

“Boss, the decaf’s still in the cupboard.”

 

“I’ve business to attend to tonight, Kallian.”

 

“Tax audit still kicking your ass?

 

Duncan chuckled. “Morrigan is quite insistent that I get the paperwork finished this weekend.”

 

“Void, Duncs, better make it a double shot then.”

 

“I’ll be staying late in the office tonight, so clock off at two. Don’t worry about locking up.”

 

“You’re the best, boss.”

 

He finished making his coffee and went back to his office while I took care of Leliana’s table again. Two pitchers of red sangria and a shirley temple for the woman with short dark hair, who I discovered was named Cassandra and was the designated driver.

 

After Duncan returned to his office, the Antivan walked up to the bar. “The brandy you have given me was much nicer than the stuff your mustachioed colleague poured for me.” 

 

“That's because Duncan, the owner, doesn't usually work the bar. He's better with Fereldan and Rivaini liquor but he gets lost with anything else.” 

 

“It reminds me a lot of one I had in Antiva, but it had more passionfruit notes.” 

 

“Ah, the Guivana XO. Would you like me to pour you a glass?”  _ Boy has expensive taste.  _

 

“That would be perfect,  _ bella. _ ”

 

“ _ Bella,  _ is it?” I raised my eyebrow. (Eyebrow raising is an essential skill for a bartender.) 

 

“I call you beautiful because it’s true,” he said, leaning forward. “I also haven’t had the pleasure of learning your name, so I must resort to such epithets.”

 

“My name’s Kallian. Kal to my friends. Here’s your drink.” I handed him the brandy. 

 

“And would I be considered a friend?” 

 

“Seeing as I don’t even know your name, I can’t quite say that we are. That’ll be thirty silver.”

 

“My name’s Zevran Arainai, Zev to my friends.” He hands me a fifty silver note. “You can keep the change.”

 

_ Hot damn.  _ “Keep tipping like that and you can call me anything you like.”

 

He laughed delightedly. “You, my dear bartender, are a treasure.” 

 

He hopped on to the barstool and took off his jacket and laid it folded on the bar. His arms were tattooed in graceful black lines in a similar fashion to the ones on his face, accentuating the structure of the lean muscle. He smiled slowly when he noticed me looking.

 

“Like what you see? I assure you, there are more in much more  _ interesting _ places.” 

 

I felt my face get hot as images of where those other places might be.  _ Shit. Now I'm blushing like a schoolgirl.  _ “Perhaps they make me wonder what a handsome man like you is doing alone at a bar on a Friday night. 

 

“Handsome, is it?” He raised an eyebrow. 

 

I shrugged and grabbed a bar towel. “Turnabout is fair play. And you haven't answered my question.”  _ Two can play this game, Zevran Arainai.  _ I wiped down the bar, making a point of leaning forward. I smirked when I noticed him get momentarily distracted. 

 

“I would not discount your presence in such absolute terms, my dear bartender. But if you must know, I recently came to this city from Antiva and thus am at a distinct disadvantage in having friends.” 

 

“Then let me welcome you to Ferelden. We have dogs and shitty beer.” 

 

“I’ll make a note to avoid it. I take it you're from here then.” 

 

“Yep, grew up in the old Alienage district on the other side of the city like ninety percent of the other knife-ears in Denerim. And the beers aren't that bad. There are some small batch IPA types that'll rival some of the more fancy foreign beers. But those are hit or miss unless you know exactly what you want.”

 

“And do you,” he said with a grin that indicated that he wasn't talking about beer, “know what you want?”

 

_ Well I certainly walked into that one. _ “I may have found something  _ interesting  _ that catches my eye. However I'm three standard drinks behind and don't clock off til two.”

 

“My dear bartender, you severely underestimate the potential of delayed gratification. And surely you have yet to go on your break.” 

 

“I  _ could  _ use a smoke.” 

 

Zevran smiled. “And perhaps someone to keep you company?”

 

“Perhaps,” I said with a smile.

 

“Then what are we waiting for?”

 

***

 

I lead Zevran to the back door that lead to the alley behind the bar. I grabbed my jacket on the way out and pulled out the cigarette pack I kept in the inner pocket. I opened it, and to my dismay, it was empty.  _ “ _ Maker damn it.” 

 

Zevran laughed that dangerous laugh again. “I did not realise you had invited me out here for an actual cigarette.” 

 

“Well I  _ would  _ if I had any,” I snapped. 

 

“If you would allow me.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes of a brand I didn't recognise, drew one out and handed it to me with a grin. I put it into my mouth and let him light it. 

 

“Thanks.” I took a puff. It had a sweet, but not quite cloying taste. I shook my head and laughed. “Anise? You’re really fucking Antivan aren't you?” 

 

“Was it ever in doubt? I had thought my accent and not to mention my considerable charm would have given it away.”

 

“You’d be surprised by how many male patrons have tried using fake accents to seduce me into giving them free drinks, or at least my number.” 

 

He made a dismissive gesture. “Which would have of course failed because they lack the authenticity and expertise of a true Antivan.” 

 

“So what would an authentic Antivan seduction entail? Seeing you're so experienced and all.” I took another drag from the cigarette. 

 

The corner of his mouth turned up in a slow smirk. “I can assure you, I am  _ very  _ experienced.” 

 

I laughed and made a dismissive gesture. “I bet you're all talk.” 

 

“Let’s make it a wager. I'll treat you to the authentic Antivan experience and if you don't like it I'll buy another ludicrously priced brandy and then go on my way.” 

 

He looked me straight in the eye, gaze unwavering.  _ When did he get this close?  _ I tilted my head up to meet it.  _ “ _ And if, by some miracle, I do?” 

 

“I get to come home with you.” The intensity of his gaze indicated it was both a request and a challenge. 

 

_ Yes please.  _ I took a step back closer to the wall and tríed to look as nonchalant as possible, as if i didn't care. As if gorgeous tattooed men proposition me on a daily basis. Which they don't. So I should take advantage of this opportunity. I took a drag from the cigarette. “Fine. Where do we begin?”

 

“Excellent!” He rubbed his hands together. “Well, first I would offer you a cigarette.” 

 

“Which you have already done.” 

 

“Indeed, we are ahead of schedule. And then I would engage you in some conversation while you enjoyed smoking.”

 

“Which we have also already done.” My eyes narrowed. “You dirty cheat.” I stubbed out my cigarette against the wall and flicked it over to the ashtray by the back door. 

 

He laughed. “I never said I was going to play fair, my dear. And we have yet to breach the next step.” He took a step closer to me, filling my gaze with his warm brown eyes.  

 

He was close. So close. So close that I could feel his breath on my lips. Before I realised I was moving backwards my my shoulders hit the wall. He caressed the side of my face and that bruised look flashed across his face for a second. I wanted to ask him who hurt him, why he looked at me like I opened old wounds, but before I could his mouth was on mine and he was kissing me excruciatingly slowly. His hand brushed against my waist sending tingles up my spine so I covered it with my own to keep it there. Everywhere he touched felt like fire, and I melted into his heat. 

  
  


***

 

The rest of my shift passed painfully slowly. The  _ looks  _ that Zevran gave me over his drinks (I had told him that any more alcohol and he wasn't gonna come home with me tonight so it was mostly lemon lime and bitters and one affogato) made my face flush and my body tingle. Leliana was also giving me approving looks whenever she could. I swear she would have organised a cheer squad if she could. 

 

When the kitchen closed at 11, most of the patrons cleared out so I did some early cleaning to help Duncan close later. By the time 2 came around the bar was empty save me and Zevran. I undid my apron and hung it up on its hook. “You ready to go? I must warn you that I don't have a spare helmet for the bike. 

 

“Certainly. And if the ride isn't long I'm not worried.”

 

“This time of night? It'll be around fifteen minutes tops. 

 

He grinned and followed me outside.

 

***

 

I had expected him to be more handsy as he rode pillion, but he acted like the perfect gentleman. Although I don't think perfect gentlemen know how to do the things that Zevran did with his tongue. The ride back was fairly quiet, with most respectable people at home in their beds and the rest not done with their nights out yet or waiting for a cab. He did hang on slightly too tightly, but he wasn't wearing a helmet and had no idea what kind of motorcyclist I was. 

 

I parked in my usual spot when I arrived at my apartment building, and gave a death glare to the security guard who had the audacity to wink at me when he noticed I had a guest. 

 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” I said as I opened the door and turned on the lights.

 

“You have a nice place.”

 

I snorted. “I have a messy place. And it's small and cramped and too hot in summer and too cold in winter.” I took off my jacket and placed it on the table. 

 

“But it's yours.” 

 

“I think the landlady would beg to differ.” 

 

“I don't believe your landlady lives here.” 

 

I imagined what Wynne would say if she did live in the same apartment as me. She would try and warn me that Zevran was here for one thing and one thing only. Which I would already know because I was here for the same thing. 

 

I shrugged. “Point taken. She has a comfy position at Kinloch and this building is funding her semi-retirement.” 

 

“As interesting as this is, I don't think you asked me here to talk about your landlady.”  He took a step closer to me. 

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Perhaps we should discuss some ground rules before we continue.” 

 

“I have an implant and there's condoms in the top drawer of the bedside table. Use them.” 

 

“All of them?” He raised an eyebrow and took another step closer so that his face was right up next to mine.

 

“I suppose that would depend on your stamina.” 

 

He laughed. “Challenge accepted. Are we done talking?” 

 

I smiled. “We’re done talking.” 

 

He looked into my eyes for a moment and that bruised look flashed across his face again. But then he was kissing me hard and hot and with lips and teeth and tongue. I grabbed onto the collar of his jacket and backed him against the door. Between kisses I pulled his jacket off and tossed it aside and then took my own shirt off. He did the same and revealed tattoos that emphasised the already defined muscles on his torso. He smirked as I traced them me then resumed kissing me. His hands moved from my waist downward until he scooped me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctually and as he moved on to kissing my neck I gasped. “Bed?”

 

“Bed.” I was secretly pleased he sounded as winded as I was. 

When he unhooked my bra with one-handed with practiced ease I knew I was going to have to thank Leliana for ordering that brandy.

 

*** 

I woke the next day feeling more refreshed and relaxed than I had in months. I rolled over to face the other side of the bed expecting to see a sleeping form next to me but the other side of the bed was empty and cold. I sat up. I couldn't see Zevran or any of his clothes. I couldn't hear the shower going either. I got up and stretched and walked to the kitchen to see if he had left anything for me. On the back of an advertisement for “Fine Dwarven Crafts: Direct from Orzammar” there was a phone number and a scrawl which once deciphered, read “My dear bartender, what fun we had last night. Please do call if you wish to do this again. xoxo Zevran.” 

 

_ Asshole. At least you could have stayed to tell me in person. Or left me breakfast. _

 

There was a buzzing noise coming from my jacket and just as I took the phone out of the pocket it stopped and my screen went dead. 

 

“Andraste’s flaming ass.” 

 

I went plugged my phone into the charger next to my bed and went to take a shower. 

 

I got out and got dressed and was towelling off my hair when I checked my phone. 

 

**11:36 AM**

 

**10 missed calls from DO NOT TEXT WHILE DRUNK**

 

**3 missed calls from PRIVATE NUMBER**

 

**Message from Shianni “pick up your phone maker dammit your ex has called me twice”**

 

_ What's so important that Alistair called both me and Shianni,  _ I thought as I returned Alistair’s call.

 

“Hello?” Alistair’s voice sounded hollow and tired, like he had been up all night.

 

“Sorry I was in the shower and my battery was flat. What's wrong?”

 

“Kallian…” his voice cracked. “Kal, Duncan’s dead.” 

 

_ Shit.  _


	2. Blow my Skull Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for canonical character death, suicide, suicide notes (it's probably staged tho because murder mystery)

By the time I arrived at The Griffon, the place was already covered in yellow tape and police. I was addressed by a detective in plain clothes, whom I recognised as Cassandra from Leliana’s table last night. “You must be Kallian Tabris. My name is Detective Cassandra Pentaghast. I believe we have met when I was off duty.”

She extended a hand and I shook it. “Yes, I remember.”

“I require your assistance in answering a few questions. If you would please follow me.” She gestured to the inside of the bar.

“Is he -” I swallowed. “Is he still in there?”

“The body was taken to the hospital earlier this morning. Later I will need you to accompany me to the morgue in order to identify the body, as you and your colleague Alistair have been given power of attorney. Since he is unable to leave Highever until the next available flight to Denerim, you will likely be required to carry out the duties alone.”

“Right, of course.” I took a deep breath to steel myself and followed her inside.

There was a folding I didn't recognise set up in the foyer with a box of tissues, a pitcher of water, and a stack of plastic cups. There were four chairs arranged on the long sides. Cassandra gestured for me to take a seat and then sat opposite me. She poured some water in the cup and then set it in front of me.

“Before we begin, I would like to offer my condolences. We heard stories of Duncan’s cases during training. He sounded like a great man.”

“Thank you. He was.”

“How long did you know Duncan?”

“I first met him five years ago when he hired me as a bartender.”

“I take it you knew him well?”

“He basically took me and Alistair under his wing when we both started. He was more like a mentor than a boss..”

“Did Duncan exhibit any unusual behaviour recently?”

“He was under a lot of stress due to the tax audit, but other than that no.”

“Were you aware that he was taking antidepressants?”

“No, no i wasn't.”

“Unfortunately it is not uncommon for retired officers to experience depression or to attempt suicide.” She produced a photograph of a piece of paper with writing on it. “He left this on his desk for you to find.”

Dear Alistair and Kallian,

I am sorry to leave you like this. However, I cannot let the darkness consume me. It plagues my sleep and my dreams and I can no longer withstand its whispers.

Take care of the Griffon for me, I trust have prepared you the best that I can.

I go to join those who have gone before me.

Duncan

“Is this his handwriting?”

I should be feeling something. Why can't I feel something. Why the fuck can't I feel anything.

“Yes.”

“Were you aware he kept a firearm in his office?”

“Yes. The city isn't safe late at night.”

“Do you know what he meant by prepared?”

“He had been showing me the ropes of running the business side of things for the past few months, but I thought it was him trying to distract me from the breakup. I never expected he’d- I didn't expect this.” He could have just fucking told me or talked to me dammit. I started to feel the threat of tears burning at the back of my eyes. I took a sip of water to try and stop it.

“I see. When was the last time you saw him alive?”

“Around two when I clocked off work. I passed by his office before leaving to let him know I was going home.”

“I believe that's enough questions for now. Unless you have any questions for me?”

“What's going to happen to the bar?” All I had was work, family, and Duncan. I couldn't lose the bar. Not now. Not ever.

“It will likely need to be closed as we finish up our investigations and until the will is sorted out and the new owner takes control - which is not my division. On my end, this appears to be a textbook open and shut suicide case. We just need you to confirm the identity of the body.”

I swallowed. The body. It was hard to think of Duncan, hardworking, dry-humoured, Duncan, as something so damn still and devoid of life.

Cassandra drove me to the hospital. She was painfully bad at small talk and I wasn’t in the mood, so we passed the time in silence. When we got to the morgue, she stopped in front of the viewing window and finally spoke.

“This may be… distressing. Are you ready?”

I nodded. I couldn’t do much else. I couldn’t say no either with Alistair over in Highever. And Duncan deserved a proper cremation, not to wait on a slab or in a fridge until I could get my shit together.

The mortician uncovered his face and through the glass I could see it was him. It was his dark hair and beard and hooked nose. “It’s him,” I said, pressing my fingers against the glass. “That’s Duncan.” There was a small red hole on his right temple. How could something so small have killed him? It didn’t feel right. It should have been bigger in order to blow such a big hole in my life, shouldn’t it?

Cassandra put her hand on my shoulder. “That’s all we needed you to do. Let’s get you home.”

I nodded, and then frowned. “My bike’s still at the bar.”

“I’ll get one of the boys to bring it over later. Right now, you need to rest. Do you have anyone who can keep you company?”

I nodded. “My cousin, Shianni. I’ll text her on the way.”

Cassandra walked me back to the car and I took a seat on the passenger side. I gave her my address and she drove me home silently.

Shianni  
Hey cuz… <<

Hey Shianni, <<

Shianni, Duncan’s dead <<

>> Call Shianni

I put the phone up to my ear.

“Hey-“

“Shianni-“

“...it’s Shianni. I’m probably in a lecture or library or something but please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Cheers!”

I took a deep breath to steel myself. “Shianni, it’s Kal. I need your help. Duncan’s dead and I’m not sure if I’m dealing.” I paused for a while, not sure what to say. “Just… call me when you can, yeah?”

I hung up. We had pulled into a parking spot in front of my apartment building while I was on the phone. Cassandra looked at me, “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I just need some time. Thank you for the lift.”

She handed me a business card. “This is my direct line if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

I got out of the car and took the stairs to my apartment. I opened the door and made my way straight to the kitchen. It was as messy and empty as I had left it this morning. The note Zevran left caught my eye on top of a pile of mail. “I need a drink,” I muttered. I grabbed a bottle of red someone had gifted me as a housewarming present, popped the cork, and started drinking straight from the bottle.

After taking a couple of swigs, my phone started ringing. I picked it up without looking at the number.

“Shianni? Thank fuck-“

“This is Flemeth Bellanaris from Asha’Bellanar Legal. Am I speaking to Kallian Tabris?”

I straightened and put my bottle down on the counter. “Yes, sorry, I was expecting another call. This is Kallian.”

“As you are probably aware, I am the executor of Duncan’s Will and Will be looking after his affairs after his death.”

“Yes, of course. How can I help?”

“As of now, my hands are tied in regards to the bar and the other matters of inheritance until I receive the police report. However, I need to arrange a meeting with both you and Alistair in order to discuss the contents of the will as well as the responsibilities you both will have in regards to both The Griffon and the retired police dog, Moira. Does Monday morning at ten suit?”

“Yes, that should be fine.” I started to add the appointment in my calendar, but then parsed what Flemeth was saying.. “Wait. Shit. Who’s looking after Moira?”

And that’s how I ended up with an ex-police dog in my studio with her tail wagging as she explored my apartment. She immediately made herself at home on my bed as I sorted through the bags of stuff that Flemeth’s courier had delivered along with her.

Okay these look like water and food bowls. And this is a bag of dog food - how often do dogs need feeding? And tennis balls for fetch. And these are a bag of… nug ears?

My doorbell rang and I could hear a muffled “Kal? You in there?”

I rushed to the door and opened it. “Shianni, thank fuck you’re here.”

She wrapped me up in a hug as soon as she walked in the door. “I’m so sorry, Kal. I came as soon as I could.”

“Duncan’s dead, Shianni, he’s- he’s gone.”

I buried my face in her shoulder to hide tears that had suddenly started to well up. Shianni squeezed me tighter and stroked my back.

This touching moment was soon interrupted by eighty pounds of retired police dog hurtling over to join in the cuddles. Shianni quickly moved to shut the door. Once Moira was safely contained in the apartment, Shianni turned to me, put her hands on my shoulders, and said, “Kal, I know you miss Duncan, but getting a dog right now is not the best idea.”

“She’s Duncan’s. Maker’s breath, Shianni, I’m grieving, not stupid. It’s just no one was looking after her and it just felt wrong to leave her with strangers and I don’t think Duncan would want for her-” sniff “for her to be alone.”

I promptly burst into tears.

Shianni has always been wonderfully pragmatic and soon had me wrapped up in a blanket on the couch and holding a mug of cocoa. She even managed to set up Moira’s food and water bowls. She finally settled next to me with her bag in hand pulled out a folder neatly labeled Crow Case Notes, placed it on the end table and then pulled out her laptop. “I’m really sorry, but I’m six feet deep in assignments at the moment so I’m going to work on them for an hour or two while you watch Hard in Hightown. After that we can take Moira for a walk and then make dinner. How does that sound?”

“That sounds good.”

Shianni set an alarm on her phone for ninety minutes and began spreading her case notes across the coffee table. I turned my attention to the tv and tried to drown out my mind.

Donnen Brennokovic was leaving his hardass captain's office (again) after being refused a warrant from her (again) during a scene which was probably only there to emphasise the sexual tension between the two (again), when Shianni’s alarm went off. She paused the TV, stretched and put her laptop on the coffee table next to the much more spread out pile of papers and photos from file. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she got up to walk to the background. The movement caused one of the photos to fall in front of me so, naturally, I picked it up.

The photograph was a grainy CCTV still, but the lithe figure with blond hair was startlingly familiar: Zevran. Fuck. Kal, this is what you get for sleeping with gorgeous strangers.

Shianni returned all too soon and I had to quickly shove the photo back into the pile. “I don’t know about you, but I sure am ready for a walk.”

Moira’s suddenly appeared next to Shianni at the mention of a walk with her ears pricked up and a swiftly wagging tail. I looked at the pair and then at the pile of notes and came up with a plan.

“I don’t know if I’m up to it.” I said softly. I hated lying to Shianni but I wanted to know why my cousin had a picture of the person I slept with in her case notes, and I really, really, did not want to explain why.

Shianni’s eyes softened. “Of course. Do you want me to stay instead?”

“No, you go ahead and take Moira for a walk. I’ll clean up a bit and have a shower maybe. It’ll clear my head.”

“You sure you’re gonna be okay by yourself?”

“Yes.”

_No._

***

I only had about half an hour to look through Shianni’s case notes and make it look like I spent time cleaning. I started with the photos, separating them out from everything else. I didn’t have time to read through pages of documents. I just needed enough information, for what? A revelation? A confrontation? But it was too much of a coincidence my cousin who was studying criminal law had a photograph of someone that had shown up on the night my boss supposedly killed himself.

I found myself scrambling for the number that Zevran left me. Thankfully the pile of mail was undisturbed by Shianni’s cleaning efforts. I punched in the number in my phone and hit dial. What the fuck are you doing Kallian?

“We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.”

Maker damn it, Zevran. You can’t even let me try and give you a chance to explain. Asshole.

I took pictures of everything with my phone that I thought was relevant. The CCTV still, photos of tattoos that were of the same design as the ones on Zevran’s body and the documentation that linked people with those tattoos to an Antivan gang (they called themselves a “guild”) of assassins called The Crows. I couldn’t find any more photos of Zevran himself, but I had enough here: I may have slept with my boss’s murderer. Potentially giving him an alibi. Andraste’s motherfucking ass I’m screwed.

I checked the time on my phone. Shianni would be home in fifteen minutes. 'Good. Enough time for a drink and a shower.' I reached for where I had left the bottle of wine I opened earlier, but came back empty-handed. 'Dammit Shianni, you better not have poured out an entire bottle of wine.' I checked the fridge. The bottle was sitting in the wine rack with a hot pink sticky note stuck to the label. I pulled the bottle out and took a swig. The sticky note just read "Don't." I peeled off the note, crumpled it up, and put it in the bin. Shianni would be pissed, but she wasn’t the one who had to deal with her bosses death. And sleeping with the guy who probably murdered her boss. Besides, it’d be a shame to waste a wine this good. Whoever had gifted it to me had good taste.

I had just put on fresh clothes and was towelling off my hair when Shianni returned, Moira in tow, whose droopy ears and tail told me she was reluctant to return to the studio. I didn’t blame her at all; There were cars more spacious. Duncan’s apartment above the bar would have been a fucking park compared to this.

“I was thinking we could get pizza, and then we could get an early night? You look like hell Kal.”

I nodded. The more I played along with Shianni, the sooner I could get back to figuring out what was going on.

“Also someone dropped this off in your mailbox,” she placed my motorcycle’s key on the bench-top. Her eyes landed on the wine bottle which was starting to drip beads of condensation. She looked back at me accusingly. “Kal.”

I shrugged. “Red’s not supposed to be kept in the fridge.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and looked back at me. “I’m not going to say anything because your boss just died and I can’t judge. Just promise me you won’t fall off the edge again.”

“I won’t. I promise.” As much as I wanted to, I needed my mind clear to try and process whatever the hell was going on.

So I played along with Shianni’s plan. Ate pizza, drank more of the wine (After all I couldn’t finish the whole bottle myself if she drank some too), and watched more television dramas til we felt it was time to pass out in bed.

The whole time I was thinking about what I’d discovered. Who could I go to with this? Did I have enough to tell Cassandra? Or the police? It didn’t feel right just to go straight to law enforcement since I had no proof, just a stack of increasingly unlikely coincidences.

***

I was rudely awakened by my phone ringing. I looked at the screen. Morrigan (Accountant) blazed out at me in too bright letters. I blearily swiped to answer and put the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“I take it you have a plan.”

“What?”

“You have a meeting with my mother tomorrow morning. You had best have a plan, or be prepared to forfeit the bar and have the proceeds of its sale trapped in a trust fund.”

“Morrigan it’s-” I checked my phone for the time, “six in the fucking morning. And Flemeth Bellenaris is your mother?!”

“Yes. You have a meeting with my mother in twenty-eight hours. You should be using every minute of it preparing. I tried calling your...” she paused, “colleague Alistair, but the fool would not pick up.”

I sighed and pushed my hair back. “He’s in Highever, helping his girlfriend with a family emergency.”

“Don’t make excuses for him, it doesn’t suit you. Meet me at my office in an hour and we’ll come up with a strategy.” Click.

I groaned and glanced over at Shianni’s still sleeping form. Six in the fucking morning was too fucking early. I thought about waking her up to tell her where I was going. I was reaching for her shoulder and suddenly I could hear her voice and I was twenty-one and exhausted and being shaken awake.

“Wake up, Kal, it’s your big night!” Shianni’s voice was bright and chipper. Too bright and chipper. I was bleary eyed and foggy headed from sleep. Sleep that I had been greatly enjoying after a late night tending the bar.

“What time is it?” I mumbled.

“It’s almost six, silly. You’re going to be late for your own party. Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday.” She opened the blinds suddenly and filled the room we shared with golden evening light.

I raised my arm to shield my eyes. “Stop,” I groaned. Shianni took this as an invitation to literally pull me out of bed. She nearly stumbled over backwards as she she did and I almost fell into her.

Which made the sweet-sour smell of alcohol on her breath all too obvious.

“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” I steadied myself against Shianni and then stepped away.

Shianni lifted a finger. “Pre-drinking is a well established twenty-first tradition and drinks at bars are expensive. I wanna get drunk without having to fork out several gold, thank you very much. Now go shower and put on something cute or sexy or preferably both.”

I folded my arms. “If the point is to get drunk, why don’t we just buy a bottle of vodka and invite Soris over and be done with it.”

“Because that wouldn’t be a party. C’mon Kal, don’t be such a stick in the mud. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I left Shianni a note instead. She needed the rest. Besides she had half a ton of dead-to-the world retired police dog pinning her to the bed. She’d be impossible to move.

 

***

  
The neighbourhood where Morrigan’s flat was located was built during the Orlesian occupation. Everything from architecture to street names to the cobblestones were so Orlesian that it feels like stepping into the heart of Val Royeaux. Not that I’ve actually been to Val Royeaux. Or out of Ferelden for that matter. But that’s what the restaurant guides say, so I’ll bow to their expertise.

The streets were fairly empty at this hour, even some of the most devout andrastrians would still be asleep. The only sign of life was a line beginning to form outside of the crossainterie that was a few blocks away from Morrigan’s building. I had considered picking up some to try and make the meeting more pleasant, but with the way Morrigan had sounded on the phone, I decided that being on time would be better than providing food, even if the guides say they are the best croissants you get get outside of Orlais.

I parked my bike outside Morrigan’s white stucco apartment building. I pressed the buzzer next to the label that said Level 1 Apartment 13 Arcane Accounting and Consultancy. Morrigan’s clipped voice came through. “About time. Come up.”

The front door clicked open and I walked up to the apartment. Morrigan was already standing in the door waiting with her arms crossed. Before I even got to the landing, she spoke. “At least one of you two have the good sense to heed my advice and and be proactive.”

“Good morning? And thanks I guess?” I pushed my hair back.

“I made coffee. You’d best come in.” She turned around and walked in, like she expected me to follow.

It’s way too early for this. I didn’t want to deal with pissing her off though, so I followed her through to the first room on the left. It looked like it had been converted from a spare bedroom. It was brighter than I expected from Morrigan, with white walls and exposed polished floorboards. The buildings must have some sort of regulations on decor. On the wall to the left was a fireplace that looked like it used to be functional but now was used for purely decorative purposes. Above it was an ornate golden antique triple ring mirror, with halla and sparrows frolicking on the intersecting frames. It was notable because unlike everything else in the room, it wasn’t there to be used. Not that the desk, computers, chairs and office things were ugly. I mean, Morrigan’s the only person I know who insists on using —and somehow manages to make work through some sort of witchery— a black antique rotary phone. But there was a whimsical and sentimental feel to the mirror on the wall, something that I had never associated with Morrigan before.

Morrigan gestured for me to sit in one of the desk. A carafe of steaming black coffee was already in the centre of the desk. She poured and handed me a mug. “What do you have planned for the bar?”

“Um,” I took a sip of the coffee. “I was thinking to just keep going? I mean we might need to hire someone to fill in for when Alistair or I do the management, but Duncan doesn’t—“ I gulped, “I mean didn’t, actually do much beyond the paperwork and manning the bar during the day or when we’re short staffed, and there’s no reason we can’t change the business hours…”

“Unfortunately, that is going to be insufficient.” Morrigan reached for a file and pulled out a stack of papers. “Before Duncan’s death there was immense pressure from a few parties in the nobility for the bar to be replaced by something that would bring more value to the neighbourhood. I believe the recent audit was also an attempt to make things more difficult for Duncan and to pressure him to sell. Although The Griffon is doing reasonably well for a bar of its kind, the profit it will yield by being run in the current manner is no match for the offered prices.”

“They want to close us down?” I nearly dropped my mug in surprise. “Why didn’t Duncan tell me?”

“I doubt he thought it would be relevant. But when two inexperienced bartenders show up to a meeting with my mother, it will be painfully relevant. No responsible lawyer is going to recommend you keep the business without a clear plan.”

I took a deep breath and set my mug down. “I’m not giving up the bar. Tell me what I need to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, life got in the way majorly.  
> I'm still going to finish this thing even if it I have to pass on this legacy to my children in my will.


End file.
